


Playtime

by patriciatepes



Category: Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Hair-pulling, Playtime, nomeansno, notsofun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 08:16:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12054960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patriciatepes/pseuds/patriciatepes
Summary: Playtime isn't always the fun Harley wants it to be. In fact, for her, it is far more frightening.





	Playtime

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this was difficult to write, actually. Every time I've ever even mentioned a Joker/Harley sexual situation, it has been consensual. It was very difficult to think up a situation that wasn't—which, I guess, one could argue, given their mental states, would be every time. I hope this worked, as a story. For Livejournal's Hurt-Comfort Bingo Round 8. Prompt: Rape/non-con

It was going to be just the _best_ surprise. Her puddin' had no idea that she had gotten out of Arkham. And this was the perfect night to make this surprise happen, since Harley had just gotten wind that Joker's latest heist had gone off without a hitch. So she had gotten herself ready—her favorite red lingerie, make-up still done, headpiece of her costume still on—and sprawled herself across the Joker's over-large bed.

She heard his cackling laugh as she heard a door—presumably the main one to the hideout, inside an abandoned funhouse—slam open. She heard it slam shut just after, the laughter never ceasing. She settled herself into the pillows, waiting. In the next moment, the bedroom door burst open, and Joker stood before her. She put on her biggest, sultriest smile.

"Hi, Puddin'."

A brief flicker of confusion crossed the Joker's face, his smile diminishing just a tad—well, as diminishing as it could get. For a moment, Harley felt small. Had her surprise not been a good one? Then, in the next moment, his grin was back. But there was a gleam in his eye that Harley had seen before. She straightened a bit in her seat, now being the one that was confused. He usually got that gleam in his eye when he was angry… but his grin looked mischievous.

"Harley-girl," he drawled. He took a single step inside of the bedroom, closing the door behind him with his foot. "I didn't know you had gotten out of Arkham."

He removed his purple jacket, draping it over a nearby chair—one that went to the vanity with the cracked mirror. He crossed the space between himself and the bed in moment, and crawled up onto the end of the bed. His eyes, normally alight with laughter, shone a little darker. Alarms were ringing in Harley's head. Had his heist not gone off like she had heard?

"And just what, precisely, are you doing here?" he asked, crawling up and over her body.

If there was a time to change her mind, it had passed. She gulped, hoping it wasn't noticeable, and batted her lashes up at him.

"I wanted to surprise you," she said.

"Oh?" he asked, one hand coming up and hovering, just barely out of reach, over her shoulder.

Her legs were beginning to quake underneath him. Her Puddin' liked to play games, play pretend. She knew this. But usually she knew the way the game was going. This time, having just joined up with the Joker's gang, she was clueless. She bit her bottom lip, gazing up at his green eyes, still shining dangerously.

"H-heard you had a heist tonight," she said.

The hand hovering over her twitched. Just a little. It was almost invisible—the movement—but she knew him. Knew him better than just about anyone. Something _had_ gone wrong.

"And what else did you _hear_ , Pooh?"

Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. That was a good thing. Sometimes, it was better to let her brain lead, rather than her mouth.

"That you got away with the loot, scot-free," she answered.

She had heard that he was successful, both the truth and a good thing. Because what she had heard was what everyone else had heard by now in the criminal underbelly of the city. The Joker got away with tons of cash and jewels, right under Guano-Man's nose. A good thing, surely.

However, the way Joker's hand was curling underneath the strap of her skimpy gown was telling her something different. He pushed her back, down between the set of fluffy pillows, straight down to the mattress. She fought back the squeak that threatened to break free. Joker loomed over her, his teeth clenched together.

"Yes, Harley, it was very _successful_. Not even one glimpse of the Bat," he growled.

Her eyes widened, understanding far too late. Batman hadn't even shown? Oh God…

"Oh, Pud—"

"It's playtime, Harley-girl," he growled, cutting her off.

She paled, possibly going whiter than her make-up. She was pretty sure she still had scars from their last "playtime." But she knew better than to struggle, to fight back. That just spurred him on. He yanked down the strap of the gown he was holding, leaned forward, and bit her neck, hard. She cried out, her body clearly confused between the sensations of pain and pleasure. Her arms longed to push at him, to try and stop him before it got too far, but her lower regions were growing warm and slick.

"Please," she murmured without thinking.

He pressed his forehead against hers, making his eyes like daggers impossibly close to hers.

"Please, what, Harley? You don't want to _stop_ , do you?"

His hands were already tearing the lacy and sheer fabric, the sound causing the blood in her veins to freeze. She shook her head.

"No, no, never, Puddin'," she answered quickly.

"Good," he growled down at her. He moved his lips so that they were just at her ear, adding, in a whisper, "But you _could_ fight a bit."

Harley bit down a whimper. He was in the mood to hurt her. Of course he was. Batman, once again, ruining her life. Joker hadn't gotten to put a beat down on him, so now it was Harley's turn. More tearing, and now Harley was completely nude beneath him, save for her make-up and harlequin hood. He had removed his shirt, and kicked his shoes off to somewhere off the bed. Harley knew she had better start fighting, or else it would be worse. So she went with her initial instinct. She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed, as hard as she could—but not _too_ hard. _Too_ hard, and he'd start to think she really want him off of her. Then she would end up with another scar.

"That's my girl," he said, putting his right hand on her throat.

He squeezed, and her vision got a tad spotty. She had even missed what his other hand had been doing. At some point, it had slipped down between her legs, massaging the little bundle of nerves at the top of her opening. She moaned as best as she could, her vision growing narrower, and her nether regions growing wetter. He moved his lips farther down her body, stopping to suck a nipple in between his lips. He gave Harley just long enough to register a positive reaction before he bit again, and she screamed.

And he laughed. Like he always did. Normally, she loved his laugh. But… not like this. If she played her cards right, though, she might make it through tonight relatively unscathed. At least he hadn't brought out his switchblade… yet.

In the next moment, he flipped her to her stomach, a knee in the small of her back, knocking the breath out of her. She gasped, and clawed at the sheets for a good show. She just wanted this to be done, so that, next time, he would be her sweet, sweet, lovin' Puddin' again. He laughed again, and she could hear him unzipping the fly of his pants. In moments, she could feel the press of his hardness against her. That warm feeling was spreading…

His hands were on her back, trailing up and down, digging his nails in occasionally. All in all, not a bad feeling. Harley was just on the verge of hoping that this was taking a turn for the better, ready to moan her pleasure for him to hear, when she felt him dig his nails into her buttocks, dragging her hips up—but not far enough.

He pressed his tip to her smallest entrance, and the urge to fight and struggle was there afresh. He was now forcibly pushing himself inside her ass, and she was whimpering with the roughness—and the stretch. Joker was not a small man.

"Please, Puddin', please no. Not there, Puddin', please," she begged.

His grip on her hips only tightened, and she was sure that she felt one of his nails break skin. He gave on great thrust, and was fully inside her. She screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks. He rammed into her, and she felt her skin stretching and breaking without the proper lubrication. She shoved her face down onto the mattress, letting it catch her screams and cries.

In the next second, Joker caught the tails of her headdress, yanking her head back. She cried out, but he never once lost momentum. It seemed the more she sobbed, the harder he thrusted. If she was lucky, he would finish quickly with all the excitement.

"Stop," she gasped. "Please! It hurts…"

He cackled again. He yanked on her head, causing her neck to strain, and she moaned, but not in pleasure. His thrusts were getting faster, but no less painful. She had run out of tears to shed. All of her sobs were dry now. It took far longer than Harley would have liked, but finally, she felt him finish inside of her.

When he had emptied his seed, he pushed her down, like he was tossing away something distasteful. She felt him climb out of the bed, but she didn't dare move. She didn't even make a sound until she heard him leave the room. Then, and only then, did she let out the last few sobs she had left.

Afterwards, it was always the same. She lifted her body off the bed, dressed herself in _something_ , and made her way to the bathroom to clean herself up. Next time, which even had the possibility of being later the same night, Joker would be sweeter. He would touch her where she wanted to be touched, and would even kiss her. He never kissed her during playtime.

But, hey, at least this time there were no scars left.

 


End file.
